


Capital H

by Plant_Mother



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale and Crowley were Raphael, Confused Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drabble, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), It’s two in the morning I should sleep, M/M, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plant_Mother/pseuds/Plant_Mother
Summary: ”Why must they suffer so?”It didn’t take that much to fall in the Beginning. Not much at all. So Heaven (the one with a capital H) was having a bit of an issue with falling angels. They really were way over their capacity for fallen angels for the quarter, which unfortunately led to some…interesting cost effective measures.





	Capital H

**Author's Note:**

> I am a baby in fandom terms, but I love these two so much! I’ve been wanting to write this lil’ ficlet for a while so enjoy Ü  
> ~  
> The title is vague cause honestly I might want to add more parts

_”Why must they suffer so?”_  
It didn’t take that much to fall in the Beginning. Not much at all. So Heaven (the one with a capital H) was having a bit of an issue with falling angels. They really were way over their capacity for fallen angels for the quarter, which unfortunately led to some…interesting cost effective measures.   
—  
 **Heaven** (the one with the capital H)  
“We can’t send them _down_.” Michael said firmly, slapping her palms on Gabriel’s desk. “We’ve had too many already, she’ll start to think we’re not cut out for our jobs!”   
“So what the hell are you suggesting then?” Gabriel moaned, rubbing his temples. He was still getting used to this beaurocratic stuff and to be completely and utterly honest, he quite disliked it so far. “We have to do…something.” Michael has begun chewing on her lip, very neurotic and _very_ unhelpful. The blindingly white, sparse expanse of heaven was supposed to inspire holy thoughts, but Gabriel always found it quite oppressive. Evidently it worked for Michael because she gasped suddenly.   
“We don’t have to make _all_ of them fall…” Michael exclaimed, her fingers steepled at her chin. Gabriel squinted at her.   
“What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?”   
“We could take the parts of them that are useful, that are _good_ and the parts that are bad, well,” Michael waved her hand noncommittally. Gabriel, for the first time since his creation, was entirely speechless. It was brilliant and yet,  
“Is that even possible?” Michael shrugged.   
“How am I supposed to know? Lots of things haven’t been tried yet. So I don’t see why we shouldn’t try…it would certainly avoid a lot of paperwork.”   
“I do not like paperwork…” Gabriel said slowly, thoughtfully. “Well, it couldn’t hurt to try…” neither of them felt the need to mention that it could, in fact, hurt very much to try.   
—  
The ‘they’ in question (they with a lowercase t because the They had not been born yet) was the archangel Raphael, a rather strange angel who was most at peace when they were alone with themselves. They’d claimed on more than one occasion that it was because it helped them think. If you were to ask a random passerby, perhaps a lower lever principality what they thought of Raphael they’d probably say that they were a bit odd but thoughtful and kind. One of those who just keeps to themselves and doesn’t get into anyone’s business. Certainly not the kind one would expect to Fall.   
The crime in question was just that; questions. See, Raphael did have a simply nasty habit of asking all the wrong questions. Especially when it came to the humans they cared so very dearly for.   
They knew that they were on thin ice with the higher ups, but was only just beginning to realize how thin that ice was when it began to crack. They were minding their own business, surveying their creations in the Sky with something almost akin to pride (which alone would probably make many of the angels ‘upstairs’ call for their removal) glimmering in their watery eyes, when several angels converged on them from all sides. Raphael barely managed a strangled gasp before they were completely immobilized.   
They were brought into the celestial plane before Gabriel, Uriel, and Michael, spitting out mouthfuls of celestial blood and feathers.   
“What is this about?” They demanded, glaring at the higher ups before them, no doubt very frustrated in being interrupted in their work. Gabriel cleared his throat very officially, unrolling an official seeming scroll.   
“Raphael, the archangel, you have been charged with treason.” Gabriel smiles kindly at the angel’s horrified face. “Don’t worry, you won’t fall.”   
—  
So, as it turns out, it is possible to split a major angel into two halves, with the unfortunate side effect being that neither half is fully their own being. They will always feel unsatisfied, always be _reaching_ for something or someone or anything to make them feel whole again.   
It is a truly terrible fate but if you asked Gabriel he’d probably say that it’s better than falling and if you were to ask Michael, she’d proudly say that’s what a traitor deserves.   
The two beings that Raphael was split into were surprisingly not two angels, but an angel and an honest to god demon. Michael was able to discreetly shove the demon away into some low level position in hell, but now they had the new angel to contend with.   
He called himself Aziraphale, (his idea, not theirs) he was rather short and somber looking, but beyond his physical appearance he lacked the conviction that Raphael had in everything they did. Still, that meant he was very open to orders and had absolutely no questions (as far as _they_ knew) about the great plan.   
Crowley (which is what the demon half was calling himself) did make the higher ups a bit nervous, considering he easily rose to prominence. He seemed to be far to good at his job in hell. He started the Spanish Inquisition for heavens sake! Michael couldn’t help but feel they’d quite dodged a bullet in regards to ‘Crowley.’   
—  
There were a great many things Aziraphale couldn’t explain. For example, why did he always feel quite lonely, even when we was around other people? And then once he met Crowley the question changed to ‘why do I feel a gaping emptiness that begins in my stomach and worms it’s way out to my chest, unless I’m with Crowley?’ Why was the feeling of being in the same room as the demon better and more safe than anything her could imagine? Why was the sound of Crowley warbling off-key to a queen song the most comforting sound in the world? Why was it so easy to feel close to this demon, closer than a friend, then a lover even, when they had _absolutely nothing in common?_  
Azirapahle never did learn the answers to these questions but, like the great plan, they seemed quite ineffable. Besides, Azirapahle was never one to question things anyway. That’s Crowley’s job.


End file.
